


Pull Me Back

by TangentialMango



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Coping Strategies, Identity, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Season/Series 05, Slight Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 07:44:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13876347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TangentialMango/pseuds/TangentialMango
Summary: Even when successful, human genetic enhancement is only a mutation away from failure. Garak’s trip to Empok Nor reminds Julian of the precipice he’s standing on.





	Pull Me Back

When Julian learned of his genetic enhancements at age fifteen, the cascade of effects were too numerous to count. It marked the end of his life as “Jules” and the beginning of his life as “Julian;” a life defined by one all-encompassing lie. It was the final straw between him and his parents. Even at fifteen, he was certain that rift would never be bridged. But one of the side effects this revelation caused was a new fear. He found himself afraid that someday, he would wake up as a megalomaniac, hell-bent on conquering whatever and whomever he could.

Earth history in school had covered the Eugenics Wars: the global power the augments seized and wielded, their cruelty and oppression. Always, their genetic augmentation was held responsible—not only for the abilities and intelligence that allowed them to take over, but for their motivation to do so in the first place.

Not knowing any of the specifics of genetic augmentation or its mechanics, teenaged Julian found himself wondering if this ambition wouldn’t simply awaken in him somewhere down the line.

In a moment of insanity, he asked his father if he’d bothered to consider this possibility back when he’d had the enhancements done. The conversation went about as well as any conversation with Richard went.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jules,” he scoffed. “I asked about that before we ever committed to the procedure. They said there was no risk of you turning out like Khan. Genetic Engineering has come a long way in the last four hundred years,” he said, as if that was the final word on the matter.

“How? What did they do differently for me?”

“The techniques and technology involved are far more advanced than what was used on the augments of antiquity.”

Julian tried to keep his voice steady as the answer made itself apparent. “You have no idea what was done to me, do you?”

Richard threw down the PADD he’d been reading, “I’ve had just about enough of you picking this thing apart. The operation was a resounding success, so what does it matter?”

“You never even cared enough to question it!”

It developed into a full blown shouting match from there. Julian walked away from the fight with more uncertainty than he’d started with.

As an adult, whenever anyone asked him why he became a Doctor, or what made him want to study medicine, he cycled through a few responses. None of them were lies; his career path was a multifaceted decision with a strong desire to help people at the heart of it. Naturally, he could never tell anyone that one of the smaller facets was to get some answers for himself.

Starfleet Medical Academy gave him everything he needed to research the history of the 20th century augments. He studied what he could of their genomes. Sadly, World War III destroyed many records of that era, but there were enough left intact that he was able to compare some augmented DNA to his own. In the end, he found that harmless-looking changes in the base pairs of a handful of genes that regulate neurotransmitters were the culprits behind the megalomania. His own genome was free of this defect. It was a great relief to finally have some proof that the doctors on Adigeon Prime actually knew what they were doing, and that he wasn’t going to wake up one morning with a sudden thirst for conquest.

Still, there was always a chance. Genetic mutations happen every day to everyone as cells divide and replicate and Julian knew that he would be exposed more often to radiation and toxic substances in Starfleet than a doctor practicing medicine on Earth. If just the right base pairs were to mutate, well…

The odds truly were slim, and didn’t bear serious consideration. By and large, it was an anxiety that was easy to keep in check, but over the years it still got the better of him from time to time.

*****

“Just breathe, Garak. You’re going to hyperventilate,” Julian whispered. He couldn’t hear Garak’s fast, shallow breaths, but he could feel them easily given how close they were.

After the panic attack in the wall, Garak had wordlessly accepted being relegated to rest until further notice. He’d laid on the cot motionless for most of the day, and Julian occasionally checked in on him to make sure he was alright.

When lights-out was called for the night, Julian could see the stutter in his friend’s composure. _The light—the light went out._ Garak’s panicked words from earlier echoed in his head, and he knew he had to do something.

He asked Garak as quietly as he could if it would help to sleep next to him. Julian really wasn’t sure if it would send him into another claustrophobic fit, but he had to try something. He got an affirmative nod from Garak, and crawled onto the cot with him. The cot was narrow, but then so was he, and they were able to fit comfortably enough if they both stayed on their sides.

His presence proved to be calming and Garak fell asleep without issue; Julian drifted off shortly thereafter.  He had hoped that they would both sleep through the night, but he awoke to Garak trembling, caught in some renewed panic.

“Garak it’s ok. Turn over, look at me.”

Garak did so, the same disconnected look in his eyes as when Julian had found him in the wall.

“Okay. Now, breathe as I breathe.” Julian took in deep, slow breaths, trying to coach Garak. He could sense Garak trying to match his slow pace, but struggling, and making little progress.

“Here,” he reached for Garak’s hand and brought it to his chest, “Feel how I’m breathing? Just like that,” he said.

That seemed to do the trick. With a more tactile guide, Garak’s breathing slowed down and stabilized within a minute or two. Julian closed his eyes and kept up the breathing exercise, happy to continue as long as it took for Garak to regain his composure. He may have been doing this to alleviate Garak’s panic, but Julian felt better for it as well. This prison had taken a toll on him, particularly the week spent in solitary confinement. He had never coped well with isolation, and this closeness, this singular point of physical contact was a huge comfort to him.

When he sensed that Garak was no longer breathing in sync with him he discontinued the exercise itself, but was content to let Garak’s hand remain where it was, thinking they might fall asleep right where they were.

And then Garak shifted slightly and kissed him.

Julian had fantasized about this scenario on more than one occasion. A medical emergency—but not a life threatening one—that Garak would actually allow him to treat. From there, the shared hardship would bring them closer together, moving them past the idle flirtation that was practically habit at this point.

As with most of Julian’s fantasies, reality bore little resemblance. They were stuck in a room with other prisoners, for starters. And much to his disappointment, Garak ended the kiss almost as soon as Julian had registered it.

“I apologize Doctor,” he said in hurried, hushed tones, his hand recoiling from Julian’s chest as though burned. “This place—I lost myself…”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Julian reassured. He kissed Garak back, light and quick. “See, no harm done.” He grasped Garak’s hand and brought it back to his chest. He smiled, futilely, uncertain whether Garak could see him in the dark, but hoping he could get the message across that the kiss was welcome and not just tolerated.

The message was received and their lips met again. Just as placing Garak’s hand on his chest was a stabilizing gesture more than a romantic one, this too was a connection—an escape for them both. It was nothing like the fantasy scenario he’d imagined, but Julian reveled in it all the same.

Garak ended the kiss abruptly and said, “Thank you, Doctor. I believe I’ll be able to sleep now.” There was gratitude, but a clear finality as well.

Julian squeezed Garak’s hand before letting it go, along with his renewed hopes. Garak was never going to acknowledge any of this after they escaped. _If we escape._ Whatever it was that had just passed between them, it was too tied up with Garak’s claustrophobia, Tain’s death, and Cardassia yielding to the Dominion. This door had just closed, and if he were ever to get closer to Garak, they would need to open an entirely new one.

*****

He rang Garak’s door chime, took a deep breath, and waited. It was late. After Julian’s parents left for the evening under protestations that he wanted to be left alone, he hemmed and hawed for an hour before deciding that he didn’t want to be alone after all. He had barely seen Garak since the return from the Dominion prison a week and a half ago and he hoped that Garak wouldn’t give him a hard time about it. This wasn’t the time for their usual games.

Julian always knew that by joining Starfleet and becoming a Doctor, he was taking a huge risk. There were any number of “safer” careers a genetically enhanced human could pursue that would neither attract attention nor result in legal action against him if he was discovered. Paradoxically, Starfleet Medical was the only career path he could take to get the answers he needed.

He still might be arrested tomorrow, but he wasn’t going to be dragged away kicking and screaming. He would be tendering his resignation in the morning before Zimmerman had a chance to turn him in. As such, he wanted to get this confession off his chest before everything became more complicated than it already was.

Garak answered the door looking alert but unkempt, suggesting an attempt at sleep that had not come to fruition. Given how recently they had returned to the station, it wasn’t surprising that Garak was dealing with insomnia.

“Doctor,” he said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He stood back, allowing Julian to come inside.

“Nothing good, I’m afraid,” Julian made his way into the living room and stood there for a moment, uncertain as to how to begin. “Starting tomorrow, you’ll be hearing some very…unsavory things about me. I wanted to explain them to you myself, now, before they take on a life of their own and get embellished. Besides, I don’t know when I might have another chance to do so.” He ran a hand through his hair, and Garak tilted his head in interest. “When I was a child, my parents had me genetically enhanced,” he blurted out, and then it was like a dam had burst and the details came spilling out after; all the changes that had been made, how far his capabilities went beyond that of a normal human, and how he’d been hiding it this whole time. It was so strange to say it all out loud at once, and after he’d said everything there was to say about his past, he lapsed into silence and let the confession hang there. Moments passed and he finally met Garak’s eyes after staring anywhere else. Garak was watching him intently, and with, what else was that? Caution? Skepticism?

“You always stood out amongst other humans—to me at least,” Garak said, “I never understood how others failed to take notice.” He stepped in closer to Julian. “If that’s all you wanted to tell me, I thank you for the clarification, but I’m afraid it’s not terribly surprising.”

Julian shook his head, “It’s more than that. I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but it’s illegal for someone like me to join Starfleet or practice medicine. I’ve kept it a secret all my life, but the truth has come out now. I’m going to resign in the morning. It will keep me from a humiliating court martial, but I’m not sure what’s going to happen next or how much the powers that be will want to prosecute an augment with an otherwise exemplary record. I might be leaving the station, taken in for questioning or worse.

“I see,” Garak said, “I hope that your superiors are lenient on you. I’ll miss our lunches together.”

“I’m…going to miss a lot more than that,” Julian said, getting out what he really came here for. “I’ve been attracted to you since the first day we met, you know that?” Garak’s eyes widened; whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t this. “Of course you know,” Julian continued with a laugh, “there was only one secret I as every any good at keeping, and it wasn’t that one. So you probably also know that it went farther than that—that I started to care about you, deeply. I kept waiting for the right moment to tell you, but it never came. Well, it’s still not the right moment but I’m telling you now while I still have a chance. And if that night in the Dominion prison was any indication, I think you feel the same way about me.”

Catharsis was what Julian had come seeking tonight, but as these last words escaped him, reciprocity became what he was hoping to find. To what end, he had no idea; there was nowhere the two of them could go from here. Not now, when he was on the verge of leaving. And as Garak stood there, head tilted, lips slightly parted, and entirely motionless, Julian knew he wouldn’t be getting any acknowledgement that the feeling was mutual.

Julian cleared his throat, “Right. Well, I should get going.” He made to leave and Garak placed a hand on his shoulder before he could take more than a step.

“I understand,” Garak interjected, perhaps louder than necessary, “if you would prefer to be alone in what is no doubt a trying time for you.” He let the offer to leave hang between them in stark contrast to the way his hand rested steadily on Julian’s shoulder.

He studied Garak’s face, now smiling fondly. It would seem that he wasn’t unwilling to acknowledge the tension between them so much as he was caught off guard by the way Julian forced the issue.

“You do still have until the morning, do you not?” Garak continued. “I see no reason we can’t enjoy each other’s company while we still have some time left together, unless you believe it would do you more harm than good. However,” he said, bringing a hand up to Julian’s cheek, “I believe it would be in your best interest to focus on something other than your current situation for a time.”

He looked back at Garak with more gratitude than he’d ever felt for someone in his life.

That night, pressed closer together than they had been on that narrow shabby cot, Julian was able to numb himself to all the turmoil surrounding his career, his parents, the prison. Instead, he focused on the singular feeling he’d never really had before, and wasn’t sure he would ever have again after tomorrow: being wanted, just as he was.

*****

The next day saw an unexpected turn of fortune as Julian’s father turned himself in to save Julian’s career. An extended goodbye was warranted, under the circumstances.

He found his coworkers’ casual acceptance of his condition just as surprising as Richard’s sudden change of heart.

There was still one loose end that needed wrapping up. After a few rounds of darts with the Chief, he made his way to Garak’s shop. Garak was dressing one of the mannequins for the shop’s window display, and he spared a glance at Julian before turning back to the fastenings on the garment. “Good evening Doctor, I take it your time spent in custody was brief.”

“I wasn’t taken in. My father made a plea deal, he’s going to prison, and I get to stay right where I am. But I expect you’ve heard as much already.”

“Indeed. I must say, I thought that your perspective on your predicament was a touch dramatic when you explained it to me last night, but I’ve heard little else all day from my Federation customers.”

“Garak, I hope you understand that I really had no hope that things would turn out this way. My father doesn’t have a selfless bone in his body. I don’t know where this morning’s altruism came from. And I certainly don’t know where Starfleet’s sudden tolerance for someone like me came from, either.”

“What is it you’re trying to say?” Garak asked, eyes still on his work.

“I just…” Julian put his hand to the back of his head, “I don’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you last night, I suppose.”

Garak laughed at that, “Doctor, I have never believed you capable of such deception, even in circumstances like these. No, the context of last night concerns me far less than what to do moving forward.” Garak left the mannequin and turned to address Julian properly. “I must admit, going back to lunch once a week would be a tad disappointing. But if that’s what you wish, I would much rather have lunch than nothing at all.”

Julian stepped in and put his hands on Garak’s sides and kissed him. He felt Garak smile through it, one of Garak’s hands at his elbow, the other sliding up to his shoulder.

Julian broke the kiss, “'More than lunch’ sounds perfect, my dear Mister Garak.” He moved to embrace Garak, resting his chin on his shoulder. “To think, we could have had this a long time ago.”

“And all it took was shared trauma and learning each other’s most deeply guarded secrets. Why _didn’t_ we do this earlier?” Garak said with delighted sarcasm.

Julian huffed a laugh. It was Garak’s usual flavor of cynicism, albeit in a more playful tone. And on a different day, he might have launched a debate about the intertwined nature of love and sacrifice.

Not today. Julian had not only escaped a fate that had haunted him for years, he ended up in a better situation than when he started. He was going to take a moment to enjoy it.

*****

When the station received a distress signal from Empok Nor, Julian requested to be part of the rescue mission. It was a basic SOS, no details whatsoever. The crew could have merely experienced a problem with the runabout and communications failure, or it could be something much more serious. With Garak involved, Julian wanted to see to it himself that he was safe.

Chief O’Brien and Nog were both waiting at the airlock with the retrieved plasma manifold system, more or less ready to go. Four other officers were dead, and Garak was injured, unconscious, and bound at the wrists and ankles. Together, the crew beamed the salvaged equipment on to the Defiant, then the corpses, and finally everyone still living. Once onboard, they maneuvered Garak on to one of the biobeds.

Miles explained on the way back about the Cardassian soldiers in stasis, the psychotropic drug, how Garak had killed both the soldiers and then turned on the rest of them. It had been a close call, and the only thing keeping them safe was the fact that Garak was immobilized.

“He woke up not too long after I disarmed him with the explosive,” the Chief said, “but we were ready for him by then. I know this isn’t exactly by the book, but we hunted around Empok Nor’s infirmary for something to keep him out. I figured that since it was a Cardassian station, it should be alright,” he handed Julian an empty hypospray.

Triptacederine. “Thankfully, you found something with a long shelf life. He should be fine.”

O’Brien and Nog had already patched up their own injuries while waiting for help to arrive, so Julian could get to work analyzing the psychotropic drug.

“Garak said he was able to take a tissue sample from one of the dead soldiers,” Miles said. “He found the drug and figured out its effects himself. If he can do that much on his own, it shouldn’t take you long to get him back to normal.”

Julian tried not to think about the fact that Garak had elected to take a tissue sample when all that would have been necessary was a small vial of blood. “Thanks, Miles. I’ll need the equipment in the infirmary to make a neutralizing agent for the drug, but I can at least get started here.  Could you do me a favor and make sure Nog eats a meal? He needs it, but I suspect he won’t do it if left alone.”

O’Brien escorted Nog to the mess hall and Julian returned to the side of Garak’s biobed. Superficial scrapes and burns peppered his clothes and his skin, and his hair had fallen across his face. _What a mess you’ve gotten yourself into._ Julian brushed the hair back into something resembling its usual style before sinking into a chair next to the biobed with a PADD and a medical tricorder.

Over the next several hours, he was able to isolate the compound. As the Chief had said, the drug worked on the Cardassian nervous system to inflame paranoia, acting on preexisting fears and extrapolating on them to see a mortal threat in everyone. It also seemed to be designed to produce a sense of euphoria when one of these threats was eliminated.

When he’d done all he could without his lab equipment and necessary medical supplies, he synced up his PADD to the monitor on Garak’s forehead. He set it to alert him if any of Garak’s vitals changed or if he regained consciousness, and left to make himself useful elsewhere. Nog was, understandably, quite shaken up. Julian promised to get him something to help him sleep the next few nights, and recommended speaking with a counselor about the experience. Nog accepted this with a grim nod and asked to be left alone for a little while, but Julian made Nog promise to come see him if he needed anything.

Julian made his way over to his other patient. “How are you holding up, Chief?” he asked, joining him at the table on the other side of the room.

“I’ve been through worse,” he said, looking down at his raktajino. “Nog check out okay?”

“He needs rest, and time to process what he’s been through, but I think he’ll be alright. Keep an eye on him though. If you notice anything odd when you’re working together, I’ll make sure he gets the help he needs.”

They were quiet for a time, O’Brien nursing his drink. Eventually, he said, “Julian did you…ever tell Garak about my past?”

“What do you mean?”

“The whole time he was trying to hunt us down he was taunting me, and not just in a general way. He was goading me on about Setlik III, about how I enjoy killing, how that’s who I really am. You’re one of only about five other people in the universe I’ve talked to about Setlik III and how much I-,” he abruptly cut himself off as he often did when the conversation veered around to emotional topics. “It’s just that he knew exactly what buttons to press, what to say to get me all riled up and throw me off my game.”

“I wouldn’t read too much into it,” Julian said. “Your service record is publicly available, and the drug was chemically rewarding him for his own violent behavior. He was almost certainly projecting that back onto you.”

O’Brien let out a small laugh and shook his head.

Seeing Julian’s confusion, he explained, “Garak only said that the drug was designed to heighten xenophobia in Cardassians. He never said that it made him feel good for killing someone. I thought that might have been—you know— _him_.”

“Miles!”

“I know that’s not what he’s like normally!” he said, defensively. “He and I have our differences, but I know you could never stand to be with someone as brutal as the person we faced back there. But,” he paused, searching, likely trying to find a way to explain himself that wouldn’t upset Julian. “you didn’t see him back on Empok Nor. Garak was obviously having a good time hunting us down, and I had no way of knowing how that drug really worked. I thought he was, I dunno, reliving his glory days in the Obsidian Order inside his own head.”

Julian put a hand up to still him, “I’m certain that this incident is the only time Garak’s enjoyed killing anyone.”

“Alright, alright,” Miles said, willing to let it drop. The PADD chirped. “Speak of the devil.”

Julian shot him a look as he got up from the table.

“It’s an expression!” O’Brien protested as Julian left the mess hall.

Garak was struggling to sit up, the sedative still weighing him down and slowing his movements. He was further hampered by the restraints tethering him to the biobed, and he fought against them weakly. “Doctor,” he said, “I suppose you’re here to finish what Chief O’Brien started, though I can’t see why he didn’t kill me himself.”

Julian stooped down, hoping the closeness would help bring Garak back to reality. In his most calming voice, he said, “Garak, listen to me. You’ve been exposed to the psychotropic drug used on the soldiers on Empok Nor. I’m going to get you back to normal as soon as we’re back on Deep Space Nine, but you’re going to have to wait it out until we get there. It would be best if you tried to relax.”

Garak’s laugh was slow. “I don’t think so.”

I’m not going to hurt you in any way,” Julian said simply, “And, if you can behave yourself, you can stay awake until we reach the station.”

“You don’t have any lethal concoctions onboard? Shame on you Doctor, it’s unlike you to be so ill-prepared. Still, your oversight is my gain,” Garak said as he continued to try and work his hands free of the restraints.

_Looks like this is going nowhere,_ Julian thought. He checked Garak’s vitals: adrenaline levels were already high and climbing, which naturally lead to an elevated heart rate and rapid breathing. His scans were indicating he was in pain, but getting Garak to admit he was hurting was a challenge under normal circumstances, and likely impossible right now. Looking him over, his pupils were shrunk down to pinpoints, patches of sweat were breaking out on the unscaled areas of his skin, and there was a slight tremor in some of his movements.

Yes, he would almost certainly have to sedate Garak again, for his own sake as much as for the safety of the crew.

Still, he should document the drug’s psychological effects. The drug may have been a failed experiment for the Cardassian Union, but in the hands of their Dominion allies, it could find a new use.

“You actually believe I want to kill you?” he asked, “After everything we’ve been through?”

“The latest twist in our relationship was simply a means for you to get close, I see that now. Few people have more reason to want me dead more than you. Dukat, perhaps, but you; you’re an augment. Of course you want to kill me.”

Julian schooled his features, sensing where the drug was leading Garak’s mind. “That doesn’t explain anything.”

“You can’t deny the thirst for power inside you. It’s in your very nature.”

Julian pursed his lips. “Fine.” He was determined to see the extent of Garak’s delusions, no matter how uncomfortable they were. “Let’s say that I am building a new galactic order with none other than myself as leader. What makes you think I wouldn’t keep you with me?”

“My dear doctor, do you really think I would allow myself to be ‘kept’ by a foreign power? Certainly you know by now my allegiance is with Cardassia. I’m not sure what form your new autocracy will take, but I’m certain there will be no room in it for someone with split loyalties.”

As he’d surmised earlier, Garak did seem to be projecting his own kill-or-be-killed mentality onto those around him, but he was also extrapolating based on what he knew about Julian. “And you think I’ll be killing anyone who doesn’t bend to my will?” he asked in the most detached tone he could muster.

“It’s well known that humans don’t pursue genetic enhancement specifically _because_ augments turn out violent and mad with power,” he finally relaxed his arms, exhausted from struggling against the restraints. “Since it is a foregone conclusion that you will be ending my life, I have a proposal for you.”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with being unable to escape, would it?”

“Not in the slightest,” Garak replied, a little too defensively. “I can’t help but think that this would be more enjoyable for the both of us if we were to settle this outside the infirmary. Euthanizing me would be such a waste, don’t you agree?”

“You’d rather fight to the death?”

“Passing away quietly in one’s sleep should be something you reserve for lesser men. I think we offer each other a rare challenge, and you have to admit, it’s far more exciting than one of your life-or-death holosuite programs. What do you say, Doctor? One genetically enhanced human versus the most highly-trained former operative you’ll find.”

Julian made no reply. Instead, he tapped a few settings on his PADD to put Garak’s forehead monitor into Delta-wave mode. His eyelids began to droop as the waves worked their magic, and then shot back open as he realized he was going under. Garak began trying to shake the inducer off his head, his movements sluggish and futile against the effects.

Just before he lost consciousness completely, Julian said, “I love you. Hopefully by the time you wake up, you’ll remember that.”

*****

Back in the infirmary, Garak was kept in a state of controlled sleep while Julian synthesized and administered a neutralizing agent. So long as his vitals remained stable, it was best to keep him under. As the neutralizing agent got to work, so did Julian.

Autopsies were an inevitable part of a doctor’s job, but easily among the least enjoyable. He’d known Pechetti, was acquainted with Boq’ta and Amaro, but had never met Stolzoff. The results were consistent with the accounts that O’Brien and Nog had given him. Two snapped necks, one case of blunt force trauma, and one gruesome death due to blood loss, the stab wound attributed to a flux coupler.

It wasn’t lost on him how much more violent Amaro’s death was than the others. The Cardassian soldiers had dispatched their victims with more force than necessary, but they were quick and clean at least. Amaro bled out slowly, painfully.

It could be said that the drug brought out the worst in Garak, but Garak’s worst was downright maniacal when compared to his fellow Cardassians. Julian could only speculate, but he guessed that the lingering effects of the cranial implant paired with Garak’s unorthodox training in the Obsidian Order were what made it so much worse for him. The being that killed Amaro and tried to kill Miles and Nog wasn’t Garak, but he also wasn’t invented out of thin air.

Julian concluded the autopsies and returned to the observation window. Garak was still sleeping peacefully, and the drug was nearly out of his system now. Did he know that this was inside him all along? If so, how did he live with it? How would he live with it now that it had surfaced?

He gave Garak’s unconscious form a wry look. _At least he can take comfort knowing that it was temporary. If_ I _ever-_

He shut his eyes and cleared his mind, ending that line of self-pity before it had a chance to get started. _It doesn’t bear thinking about; never has, never will._

It really was a shame. There was absolutely no one that Julian could speak to about this particular anxiety. If they were human, they were more likely to share in his alarm, not diminish it. If they were non-human, non-Federation, they were unlikely to understand it or relate to it at all. But here Garak was, essentially going through the exact same thing. Maybe he could coax Garak into talking about his experience.

He’d have to wait, though; Garak needed time to recover, and he was always tightlipped about anything of this nature. If Julian could be patient, he might finally get some practical advice, or at the very least, have an empathetic listener.

It wasn’t too long before Garak woke up. Julian was there to make him as comfortable as possible, under the circumstances. A simple round of routine questioning confirmed that Garak was back in his right mind, and the restraints could be removed. Knowing that Garak’s perceptions of the incident were likely skewed, Julian gave him a recap of what had happened and what he’d done. Garak took it in silently.

“There’s going to be an inquest into Amaro’s death. I don’t think much will come of it. I’ve already got all the evidence we need to prove that you weren’t in command of yourself.”

“I see,” Garak said, brusquely. “Thank you Doctor.”

_It’s never a good sign when he goes quiet._ With no further reaction from Garak, Julian dropped his professional tone, “It was an accident. You weren’t responsible.”

“No my dear, ‘accident’ is a label only for use when there is no fault to be found. This inquest might not find me guilty, but I am responsible.”

“You weren’t in control of your actions,” Julian said simply.

Garak stared at him in defiance, daring Julian to defend him further.

_He needs time,_ Julian reminded himself. He made a placating gesture, “I’ll just be in the next room; let me know if you need anything.”

Eventually, Chief O’Brien came in, no doubt seeking closure from Garak. Julian wanted to afford them some privacy, but his enhanced hearing picked up the conversation regardless. The Chief was a man of few words and under the circumstances, so was Garak, but Julian nevertheless overheard Garak ask Miles to pass on his apology to Amaro’s widow.

The day wore on, and Garak gradually came back to himself. Julian insisted that he stay in the infirmary for observation for a full twenty-six hours. They ate lunch in the infirmary together and fell into a quiet discussion of the latest book they had started reading. Garak’s mental recovery proceeded rapidly, and by evening Julian would be hard-pressed to imagine this was the same man who was delusional less than a day ago. As a Cardassian, Garak wasn’t going to process things the same way a human would, but Julian found his speedy recovery a little unsettling nonetheless.

He left the infirmary that evening knowing that Garak wouldn’t be there the next morning in spite of his instructions; Julian was the only one who had ever been successful at making Garak stay put for observation, but by now he needed rest himself. As such, he prescribed a course of antivirals and explained them before he left for the evening. It was a preventative measure; Garak’s immune system was vulnerable at a time like this.

It really didn’t matter how much Julian tried to anticipate Garak’s actions; he always managed to defy expectations. Beyond simply leaving the infirmary, Garak was back in his shop the next morning, working as though the plasma manifold had been delivered to them on a silver platter.

_How can he just pretend that nothing happened?_ Julian thought. He knew he was overreacting; of course Garak would pretend that nothing happened. _That’s what he always does!_ But Julian couldn’t help thinking about how he would react, how he had been trying to cope with the same potential for malevolence waiting inside himself for years.

There was only one thing for it. If Garak was as recovered as he was acting, then he should be more than ready for Julian to talk to him about his experience.

_…Right?_

*****

“I’m perfectly fine, Doctor; I assure you. There’s no need to make a fuss over me,” Garak protested when Julian showed up at his door that evening.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Julian said. The tricorder returned exactly what he expected, everything within normal parameters. He folded the tricorder up and put it away. “There, you’re perfectly fine, no need to make a fuss.”

Garak hummed a single note of I-told-you-so.

“I can tell you haven’t taken your evening dose of antivirals, though.”

“Your instructions were vague,” Garak countered, retreating to the bedroom. “I thought I only needed to take the antivirals in the morning.”

Julian sat down on the couch while Garak rummaged for the hypospray in the other room. “Garak, how much do you remember after you came in contact with the drug?”

“More than I’d care to.”

“Do you remember what you said to me on the Defiant? About how I was going to kill you and subjugate everyone under my new empire?” he asked with sarcastic overemphasis, a poor cover for his nervousness.

A pause. “I do recall that, yes.”

“Was that based on anything real?”

Garak stepped into the doorframe, hypo in hand, and gave him a quizzical look. “I must say Julian, I had thought that particular conversation would be the least objectionable aspect of my misadventure.”

“Well I’m certainly not _happy_ about the other parts…” he trailed off, eyeing the carpet. “Imagine growing up, hearing repeatedly and without exception that people like yourself are dangerous. ‘Genetic augmentation is illegal because augments are a threat to society.’ That’s all I heard; that’s what I believed until I learned I was one and had some evidence that it doesn’t always turn out that way.”

“I see,” he said, taking a seat next to Julian. “Rest assured, I don’t believe you capable of any such thing. I came up with many fantastical ideas while at the mercy of that substance; that one held no more truth than the others.”

“I’m relieved to hear you say that,” Julian said quietly.

“Since you insist on it, would you do the honors?” Garak held out the hypo.

“Of course,” he said. He continued his train of thought as he administered the dose, “There’s a little more to it though. I took the liberty of studying what makes me different a long time ago, why I don’t have any desire to conquer Earth but the earlier augments did. As it turns out, it’s just a few base pairs responsible. Arrange them one way, you get Khan Noonien Singh; put them in the right order, here I am.”

Garak turned to face Julian properly now that the medication was out of the way. “I’m glad that the geneticists of ill-repute who designed you were so careful.”

Julian twitched a smile. “My point is, these genes could easily be changed as a result of a mutation. It happens all the time,” he said, getting a little more worked up. “Most have no effect at all, others cause diseases and conditions that even Federation doctors are willing to cure with genetic therapy. But it would be nearly impossible for me to get treatment if, say, the base pairs of SLC6A3 get shuffled.”

“You seem to have done a fair bit of research on the subject. Why not arrange for your treatment ahead of time with a team of doctors?”

“It’s a twofold problem. I am inherently viewed with suspicion by other humans. I’ve got an official stamp of approval to live like a ‘normal’ person, but that will only take me so far. If I were to start proposing untested genetic treatments to be performed on myself out of some chance I might lose my head, not only would they likely be rejected without consideration, but it would be the end of my medical career and the beginning of a life under constant surveillance.

“The other problem is that my personality might change enough that I won’t want to go back. Past augments certainly thought themselves the height of human evolution and didn’t see anything wrong with assuming a place of power over others. I probably wouldn’t either at that point, and wouldn’t willingly turn myself in.”

“And just how likely is this doomsday scenario?”

“That’s the really sad part,” he said with tired amusement. “The chance of the right base pairs mutating in just the right way is infinitesimally small.” He let his head flop on the back of the couch. “I’ve been trying to cope with this for half my life. How have you managed to cope with something similar so well in one day?”

“I’m afraid that my familiarity with having taken lives in the past may have something to do with it. It would be a rather self-defeating solution in your case.”

Julian closed his eyes.

“I do have regrets regarding crewman Amaro and everything else that happened on that station. I know that your Federation judicial system will absolve me of any wrongdoing where my own would see me convicted. You yourself tried to comfort me by telling me that I ‘wasn’t myself,’ and bear no responsibility. Surely this is an exception you should extend to yourself. You may not be able to prevent this mutation, but shouldn’t you take comfort knowing that this hypothetical despot is not you?”

“I know I should, but…” he shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

They were all very logical arguments that Garak proposed, but Julian dismissed every one of them, having thought these things through on his own a dozen times over the years.

Eventually, Garak said, “How about taking comfort in knowing that I would personally stop you?”

Julian gave a humorless laugh. “Be serious.”

“Hear me out. Your anxiety revolves around the possibility of hurting others, does it not?”

“More or less.”

“Very well then, if I notice you tending towards the homicidal, I will take necessary measures to keep the galaxy out from under your thumb.”

_Is he suggesting…?_ Julian blinked in confusion. “Garak are you…offering to kill me?”

“You certainly made the situation sound dire. If there is another solution, I’m all ears.”

“That’s horrid!”

“Yes, it would be. I don’t relish the thought of it.”

“What on Earth would make you think that I might _want_ such a thing?”

“’Want’ is a strong word, but if there’s one thing you’ve shown me time and again, it’s that your desire to save lives is far stronger than the desire to preserve your own. You have a tremendous capacity for self-sacrifice, far beyond that which would be considered advisable. I’m almost surprised you didn’t think of it yourself.”

“I’d much rather find a way to prevent a mutation altogether.”

“As would I, I assure you. And I encourage you to keep hunting for a solution; you may yet find one. But every starship has a self-destruct mechanism, an absolute last resort before an enemy captures it, and the captain always goes down with the ship. In the event you can’t prevent this mutation from occurring, I would take it upon myself to see you through to the end.” The gentle tone in Garak’s voice belied the gruesome act he was referring to.

Euthanasia wasn’t strictly outlawed in the Federation, but it was still very much taboo amongst humans. He’d tried to understand the viewpoints of other cultures on the subject, but always came up short. The arguments in favor of it had always hinged on ending suffering, a show of mercy to those in pain. Julian’s response had always been that modern medicine had advanced to a point that pain and suffering were easily eliminated in all but the most extreme circumstances. If he was being completely honest with himself, it also wounded his professional pride. He was a doctor; if a patient of his preferred assisted suicide to treatment, he clearly wasn’t doing his job right.

On the other hand, what Garak was proposing wasn’t meant as a mercy for Julian. It was a mercy for everyone else.

_Almost everyone._

“Garak I-,” he swallowed thickly, “I admit I can see your logic, but that means you would most likely be one of the first people I would end up hurting. It’s not exactly a comforting alternative.”

“Ah, but there may come a point where you would no longer have a say. If you should set your sights on Cardassia, I would have no choice but to neutralize the threat you pose. No, my dear, I think that it would be best for everyone if you simply got used to the idea.”

Julian leaned forward, elbows on knees. _I suppose I could get used to the idea._ He’d grown to think of “Jules,” the man he was meant to be as having been killed off so that “Julian” could take his place. There was a certain poetic symmetry about it, ensuring the safety of everyone else with the termination of his own life. And when he thought about it, Garak really was the only one he felt would be up to the task.

He looked up at Garak, seeing the faintest ghost of a smile. _Oh._

“You’re having me on, aren’t you?” he asked, sitting up, and Garak’s smile fully surfaced. “I can’t believe you.”

Garak pulled him in close. One arm around his middle, the other on his shoulder, arak asked softly, “The real question is, do you feel better?”

Julian nodded his head to the side as if being pulled by an outside force. “A little. For now.”

“Well that’s a start,” Garak said, rubbing Julian’s shoulder. “I don’t think either of us is up to the task of going out tonight. Would you care to stay here for the evening?”

Julian would, and did.

An early shift the next morning got Julian out of bed while Garak slept in. As he sat down on the couch to put on his boots, he spotted the hypospray from the night before. He picked it up and checked the contents. Still three more doses in this vial. There should only be two if Garak had taken it as prescribed.

He played with the hypo idly. How odd was it that he should find some relief in such a ridiculous proposal. The humor Garak put into the exchange should have worn off by now, and the idea of creating what was essentially a dead man’s switch was better than nothing, he supposed, but it still wasn’t a real solution. Somehow, though, he still felt better. He turned Garak’s words over in his head—not superficially, as he had taken them last night, but examining them from all angles.

Julian knew there was probably some reality to Garak’s offer for the worst-case-scenario. But underneath that glib suggestion was something much more sincere. An offer, or perhaps promise, simply to be there for him. A desire to stay by his side, no matter what happened. Not an escape, but a means to remain.

And _that_ was an offer he was willing to accept.

He marched back over to the bedroom making no effort to muffle his steps, and called for the lights. They revealed Garak wincing in the sudden light, and he quickly pulled a blanket over his head. A muffled, “Do you mind!?” reverberated from under the blanket.

Julian went over to the bed and pulled back the blanket, shoving a hypo under Garak’s nose. “You didn’t take the antivirals yesterday morning.”

Garak rolled his eyes. “Forgive me for being blunt, but I have survived far worse than the common cold.” He tried to grab the blanket and pull it back over his head, but Julian was too quick for him and kept it in place.

“If that’s true, then I suppose you should have no problem with these bright lights, or humoring me by taking a simple medication.”

“My immune system has done perfectly well on its own so far.”

“I hate to bruise your ego, but that’s not going to hold true as you age. The more you ignore my suggested treatments, the more often you’ll end up in the infirmary, and we both know how much you love to stay there.”

Garak’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “If this is a preventative measure to compensate for stress, as you claim, I should think rest would be desirable. Perhaps some _peace_ and _quiet_ might do me some good.”

“Lie still,” was the only warning Garak got before Julian pressed the hypospray to his neck, perhaps pressing it in a little harder than usual.

Garak sat up and rubbed the spot behind his neck ridge where the medication had been applied. “Was that really necessary?” he asked Julian.

“Apparently, it was,” Julian said. “I clearly can’t count on you to follow even the simplest regimen,” he walked back over to the doorway. “I’ll be by later tonight to see that you’ve taken another dose of antivirals. You’re going to stay alive and healthy even if I have to apply every hypo to your neck myself,” he said, pointing the hypo at Garak.

Garak huffed in irritation, but Julian could see a hint of recognition in his eyes.

“Lights,” Julian called, and left for the day.


End file.
